


The Coin Op Boys

by Karilynne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karilynne/pseuds/Karilynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next to run-down motels and burger joints, self-service laundry stops were pretty frequent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coin Op Boys

**Author's Note:**

> No set season.

It was the squeak of old sneakers scuffing about linoleum floors, accompanied by the bubbly laughter of children that made him pause. Dean rubbed a thumb across a small tear in the damp flannel shirt he held in his hands, idly picking at a loose string as he watched two small boys chase each other around the laundromat. He smiled to himself as one of them would occasionally slide on his knees under a table or under one of the pinball machines, only to be reprimanded by whom Dean assumed to be their mother about 'staying off that filthy floor, who knows what kind of stuff's on it'.

Growing up in the backseat of the Impala, early morning self-service laundry stops were quite frequent. As a toddler, Sammy would squeal with delight as Dean hoisted him up into one of the courtesy laundry carts (pointedly ignoring the signs that advised otherwise). Dean would push his little brother around, tripping over his own feet as he sped past the washers, making motor noises and tire screeching through his teeth as he rounded corners. John would roll his eyes as he sipped his coffee, leafing through the daily newspaper for a new hunt as he waited on the clothes to finish drying, shaking his head at the energy those kids possessed at such an early hour.

"Daddy, you got an ex-tra quar-ter?" a seven year-old Dean would ask, stressing syllables in a matter-of-fact fashion while beaming expectantly up at his father. He would protest lightly, telling him that they needed the quarters for the rest of the laundry but would always give in at the end and spare a few coins for the boys. John would watch as Dean's brows furrowed and the tip of his tongue out in concentration as he tried to make the quarters last as long as possible in the pinball machine, while Sammy teetered on his tiptoes on a chair, leaning against the machine and cheering his brother on.

Dean huffed in amusement at the memory as he tossed the last of their damp clothes into the dryer with a few dryer sheets he pilfered from Bobby's the last time they were there. Sam had gotten onto his case about 'taking without asking', which was ridiculous in Dean's opinion- who was going to miss a beat-up old box of off brand dryer sheets that probably went off market in the early nineties? At least he was making more than a half-hearted attempt at doing the laundry correctly.

Which, speaking of...

"Hey Sam, you gonna help me with this? It was your idea in the first place to stop and..." he trailed off as he turned and saw Sam hunched over in one of the hard plastic chairs. He had his fingers steepled under his chin as he rested his forehead against one of the spinning dryers.

Dean sighed and shut the door, plunking in a couple quarters as he started the last load. Sam would do this as a kid too. Whenever he wound down, he would drag a chair over to one of the dryers, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and going into a trance watching the clothes spin around. Except now, Dean had a feeling it wasn't because his brother was coming off an energy-high and needed a little fabric zen to relax. 

Chair legs scraped noisily across the tile as Dean drew up a chair to the left of Sam, straddling it backwards. He rubbed soothing circles on Sam's back with the palm of his hand, gazing into the tumbling colors of flannel. After the cycle was up and the machine buzzed, Sam let out a defeated sigh and started bouncing his leg up and down, boot squeaky slightly against the floor. Dean lightly cuffed him on the back with his palm.

"'Bout ready to blow this Popsicle stand?" Dean asked as he brought over a rolling cart and opened the dryer. "I ain't touching your dirty underwear, bitch." 

"They shouldn't be dirty if you washed 'em correctly, jerk," Sam snorted, standing up and stretching.

They would be OK.

\--------

 

"Hey Sam, think you'd still fit in one of these laundry carts?"

"I highly doubt it, and I'm not about to try it either, so don't even ask."

"Spoilsport."


End file.
